


Discipline

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Bratting, Breasts, Canon Compliant, Cock Tease, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Gothic Literature, Inappropriate Behavior, Inappropriate Erections, Kissing, Lap Sex, Meliora Era, Neck Kissing, Office Sex, Orgasm Delay, Papa III Is A Boob Man No I Will Not Be Taking Questions, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Resolved Sexual Tension, Riding, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: After teasing him to his breaking point, Papa's own arousal is set to the side as he tests out a new little game of punishment he knows you'll love.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader, Papa Emeritus III/Sister(s) of Sin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> Anon request on tumblr: Dom papa but making a sub read a book with a vibrator in them and everytime they mess up papa makes the intensity higher and they have to restart the book.

You had known from the very start that your actions would land you in hot water like this. You had been sitting during mass while Papa delivered his sermon, looking like you were listening to his every word. But you hadn’t been. You had been waiting for him to look over at you. 

“--Because you see, freedom and individuality is what God takes away,” Papa preached, making a snatching motion with his hands, “And those same two things are what our Dark Lord Satan gives back.” He extended his hands again, then held up a finger as he went on. His sermons are more fun to watch than his elder brothers’ had been. The third Papa, who also happened to be the Papa you knew in the carnal sense, was very animated, and told the stories with not only his voice, but his body. “Guiltless,” he told the chapel of Siblings of Sin, “As we all were made to be. He did not die for our sins as the zealots celebrate Jesus for doing. Our Lord was cast down for his own sins, for standing up to the Mighty force of tyranny, and for it, he fell--” Papa tripped over his robes, and toppled headfirst into the church organ, making an ungodly noise as the sheet music for Devil Church went flying. 

You sighed. Yep. He sure did know how to tell the story with his body. In the front row next to his other sons, Nihil shook his head, and that nervous little Cardinal beside him stifled laughter. 

Papa popped back up, fixing his mitre. “He fell, just like that!” He chuckled at his own clumsiness. “Eh, what was I saying?”

“Mighty tyranny,” the organ ghoul whispered to him. 

“Yes! He fell in pursuit of what, exactly? What we now live by here! The indulgences in which we partake to honor his courage and rebellion. The Seven Deadly Sins!” His eyes floated out to his crowd, and you smirked. His gaze stopped on you in the very back pews, and you licked your lips. His eyebrow raised, and you lifted up your habit to reveal a quick view of your breasts beneath, which had small black star pasties over the nipples. “And, eh...” he breathed, pupils blown, “What would the first Sin be, my children?” You put your hand up, and he looked especially displeased. “Anybody? Anybody at all?” He finally took a seat on the bench beside organ ghoul, crossing his legs so that his vestments hid what you knew to be an erection beneath them. “Yes. Okay. Sister (y/n).” 

“Lust?” you had asked, in the most sultry voice possible. 

“That is right,” he croaked back, voice cracking. 

Now, you’re in for it. Standing in his office, awaiting punishment as you have so many times before, you wonder if he’ll be harsher today than other days. You hope so.

“So,” Papa says, taking a seat at his desk. He’s dressed in his casual clothes again, mitre and robes put away. “I suppose you know why you are here.” 

You blink innocently. “No, Papa. Would you tell me?”

He clenches his jaw, and begins to remove his white gloves, finger by finger. “Yes, fine. I would say it is because you decided it was a good idea to flash your Papa while he was speaking, thereby derailing the entire sermon.” 

You neglect to mention that it was his great fall that had done that, and instead feign surprise. “And... was it a good idea?” Papa glares at you underneath that skull paint, beyond done with you. 

“No.” 

“I don’t know, Papa. You looked like you needed the boost,” you say, holding back a smile. His eyes narrow into slits. 

“You think you are funny, you little shit disturber?” Your smile says it all, and he nods. “Mmm. Mhmm. Just as I thought. No chance of remorse.” He tents his fingers. “What do you believe would be a fitting punishment, then?” He watches your smile grow, and holds a finger up. “Don’t answer that.” He sighs, and for the first time since mass, takes in your form. You’re wearing your more form-fitting habit today, for obvious reasons, and he can still make out the pasties through the material, and the round curvature of your enticing breasts beneath. 

“Would you care to explain to me why you chose to wear this today?” he asks, sitting back in his chair. 

“Is clothing a crime now?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Because I can gladly take it off if it’s a problem.” 

“You know what I mean, damn you.” 

You continue to smirk, much to his frustration. “In case you have forgotten-- dear Papa-- the church has a lenient dress code. You may wear your habit any way you wish to... as long as you are wearing it,” you say, as if quoting the very rules themselves. The only reason you knew it off by heart was because you were caught breaking it once. But today, you made sure your habit wasn’t the reason you were called in to Papa’s office. 

“That is a fair point,” he growls. “But still. That does not mean you can flash what is beneath it during mass to the head of the church!”

“Why not?” you pout. “Does the head of the church not like it?” His breath hitches, and his fingers begin to fiddle with a quill on his desk as you approach him. You get close enough to lean down over him, squeezing your breasts together. “Does my Papa not like to see the body that belongs to him?” 

Papa exhales, unable to tear his eyes off of you. His admission is reluctant. “Your Papa likes it very much.”

“Then who gives a fuck?” you giggle. “Since when were you a stickler for rules?” He tries to respond, but you shush him. “If it shocked you that much, I apologize deeply, Papa. I do...” You walk around the desk to him, where you stand over his seated body. “...But I was just getting some air up there. Do you have any idea how hot these habits can be? Especially when listening to you speak?” His mismatched eyes look up to yours, glinting dangerously. He’s daring you to go further, and you’re never one to back down from a dare. Your hand boldly slides between his legs, where you can feel the evidence of the erection he’s maintained since morning. “I think you have a good idea how that feels, don’t you?” 

Papa snaps. He stands, taking you by the wrist, and goes over to his bookshelf. “Alright, Sister. I see how you thought this was going to go. You thought you could seduce me, slide into my lap and grind on my cock until I had no choice but to fuck you, eh?” You go to answer, but he startles you by cutting you off. “Change of plans. You will go over to my desk, you will bend over and present your ass to me, and you will do it _now_.” Where you would normally tease him a little more, pushing him any further right now seems to be the wrong decision to make, so you obey him silently. He nods appreciatively your way, watching you carry out your task. “Very good. It seems you _do_ know how to do as you are told without backtalk.” 

You bend over his desk, arching your back so that your habit falls away from your ass, exposing the tiny black thong you’d worn for this punishment specifically. This is not lost on him, as he stares at it intently. He finally pulls his gaze off of you, taking something off of his bookshelf. 

“Do you know what this is?” You look to what he’s holding in his hand, and squirm. 

“A book?”

“It is my favourite book, in fact. The Picture Of Dorian Gray.” You watch him open the book, stroking the spine lovingly. You hadn’t really pegged Papa as an avid reader, but Dorian Gray seemed a fitting tale for him. Papa looks back up to you, and walks over. “You will read it.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Are we turning this into a book club? I’m sorry, I forgot the brownies.” He doesn’t seem as amused, so your smile fades as he opens a drawer in his desk. He gets something out, and you worry for a second he’s stolen one of Secondo’s torture devices, like that fucking finger trap from the Addams Family. Instead, he gets up, and runs a hand over your ass, giving it a light smack. 

“Spread your legs for your Papa.” You freeze. _What was he about to do?_ “Come now. You were so quick to show me your breasts earlier, are you too shy now to show me your cunt?” At Papa’s blunt words, you moan softly, and acquiesce, opening your legs up for him. You suppose whatever he could be doing wouldn’t be too jarring. You feel a finger tease your entrance, and all your worry melts away. That’s it, then. The bastard just wanted it done his way, that’s all. You gladly part your legs more for him, and his finger dips into you. Laying down on his table and closing your eyes with a hazy smile, you feel him part you further with a second finger. He spends a couple of blissful seconds pumping them inside of you, until he’s sure you’re nice and slick. Then you feel the cold sensation of something foreign. 

Your eyes open, and you look back to see a smug smirk on his face. “This is somewhat of a unique punishment, il mia disobbediente. You see, it is nothing like what we have done in the past, me bending you over my lap and giving you a good spanking until you rub yourself to orgasm on my thigh, or some such activity. Today, you get something different. Something that will hopefully teach you a lesson.”

You go to ask just what he was talking about, but feel the device inside of you whir to life. _Fuck. It’s a vibrator._ You grind back against nothing, and begin to wonder if Papa would keep you bent over the desk like this. Instead, he taps your ass. 

“Close those legs.” You do, and follow him to his seat, where he guides you to sit in his lap, your back to his chest. “I admire your spirit, dolce mia,” he whispers in your ear, stroking your hair back. “And I adore it. But you must be reminded once in a while, as all wayward siblings must, who your Papa is... and that he must be obeyed.” He presses the softest of kisses just beneath your jaw. “What did you think would happen today, hm? Tell me. Tell Papa.”

“I wanted to...” you murmur, and whine instead when you can’t form sufficient words. 

“Did you think I would need to touch myself after seeing those full bosoms of yours? Did you picture me with that wicked smile on your face, picture me jerking my cock to the thought of you, having to disappear behind the altar to take care of myself?” You bite your lip, feeling your wetness begin to drip down your thigh. “I did get hard when I saw you. _So very hard,_ you feel? So you accomplished one thing. I have quite the raging boner right now. But that can wait. That can wait.” He gives you a small pat. 

“Papa,” you sigh, the name coming out more as a wanton plea than anything else. 

Another moan slips out in your breathing, and he lounges back, looking out over his cluttered desk. It’s always cluttered because he never bothers to clean it up-- everything on it is constantly being shoved off in the throes of passion and heated office sex, there’s no point in fixing it anymore. He hums. “What shall I do while I listen, mm?” You can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest against your back, and you exhale, feeling dizzy from arousal. “Shall I... get some backlogged paperwork done?” You gasp, feeling the vibrator shift in you. 

“Since when do you... do paperwork...?” you breathe. He chuckles. 

“Good point, Sister. Ehh, I will do as I usually do and pass it along to Copia to complete. So, perhaps I will sit back then, no? Enjoy watching the rain fall outside, enjoy one of the cigars Primo gifted me on my birthday while I listen to your soft cries of protest as you fail my little task, time and time again. And you will fail.” 

“I won’t,” you retort. He shrugs. 

“We’ll see about that. For now, I think I will just listen to your sweet voice.” His grip tightens on your ass, and he hands you the book. “Begin. Page I, line I.” The infuriating asshole puts his other hand behind his head as he keeps you rooted firmly in his lap, vibrator deep inside of you. His steadying hand is inches away from your heat, resting on your upper thigh. You didn’t think he had this much self control, but you suppose Papa was more secretive than you had seen thus far. All you know right now is, it’s hard to focus on even holding the book, let alone reading from it. The waves of arousal the toy is sending through you is distracting to say the least. But you have to prove him wrong, give him a reason to be proud of you. 

“The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pinkflowering thorn,” you read out, more steadily than you had thought possible. You smile, pleased with yourself. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all. “From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as usual, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-colored blossoms of the laburnum...” your lips part slightly as Papa turns up the setting on the vibrator, “--whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame-like as theirs.” 

Papa seems impressed, but you’re barely hiding how much you want to fuck yourself on the toy. With a soft breath, you grind ever so slightly, and Papa stops you with his firm hand. “Ah, ah. None of that, now. Continue, dolce. You are doing very well.”

You take a deep breath, and do as he says. “And now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk c...c--ohh...” you moan, eyes closing as your pussy clenches. “Um...” you murmur, gaze hazy as you try to reclaim your place. “The, uh...”

“Too bad,” Papa sighs. “Start again.” 

“Papa, please,” you whine.

“Whining will get you nowhere, bad little girl. Read.” 

Wiggling your hips, you can feel the slick soaking your panties, soaking through onto his thigh. But you’re sure he doesn’t mind. “The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses...” you begin again, reading the passage. This time, you make it through nearly to the bottom of the page, but mess up on a word when Papa starts to rub and massage your ass. 

“That’s not fair,” you protest, almost sobbing in frustration. He raises an eyebrow, turning up the intensity. 

“Does it seem like we are learning a lesson in obedience here, Sister?”

You catch his drift, and swallow. You catch more flies with honey. “I’m sorry, Papa. Shall I start again?” And so begins twenty minutes of frustration, arousal, redirected and disconnected phone calls, and feeling Papa getting harder and harder beneath your ass, which despite his reprimands, you just can’t stop grinding down. 

“Tutto a posto. Here is what we do,” he pants in your ear, “You only need to make it to the end of the page. The very last word on this page, no mistakes.”

“Oh,” you breathe, still able to prick him with some of your wit even in your current state, “Too horny now to follow your own rules, eh Papa?” His fingers tighten on your ass. 

“Careful, or I will forget how to be so kind.” But you both know the truth, and that is that yes, he didn’t think it would take this long, and no, maybe he did not think this through. Nice idea, though. 

By the time you fail two words from the end, he’s turned up the vibrator to its highest setting, and you can barely eek out a word without drooling. “Conjec... conject... tures...” you try to get the word out, chin turning back to where Papa is watching the page over your shoulder. His lips are so close to yours, and fuck, all you can think about right now is how good it would feel to get pounded by the dick you’re sitting on. (Man and appendage.) Papa’s darkened eyes ascend to meet yours, then flicker to your lips. They’re inches away, and all this talk of rich roses and honey sweet has him dreaming of your taste. 

“Damn,” he groans, and turns you around in his lap, putting a hand on the small of your back to keep you upright and the other one fisting in your hair to draw you into a deep, heady kiss. When he pulls away, another throb of arousal hits you.

“Make me cum,” you whimper, and Papa’s neglected cock twitches in his pants. He moves his fingers down again to enter you, and he teases the vibrator deeper a couple of times, until you’re sobbing into his shoulder, grabbing onto the material of his jacket and threatening to tear it in your desperation. He removes the toy, leaving you empty, and sets it aside on his desk, bringing his fingers back to lick clean. 

“You are intoxicating, Sister,” he whispers, "Irresistible.” You drag your clit against his leg. His eyelids flutter as he feels your slick spreading over his pants. “How does that feel? How does Papa’s thigh feel against your wet pussy? Does it feel _good_ , ghuleh?” His voice rumbles in his chest, and his free hand smooths down your arm, taking your hand and lacing your fingers with his. Using some agency and taking initiative before both of you reach a happy ending too soon, you reach down to touch Papa through his pants. His cock is rock hard, straining against his pants painfully, and you would give anything to feel it inside of you. Knowing this to be a very attainable desire, you pop the button on his pants, and reach in, wrapping your hand around his warm member. “Oh,” he sighs.

“I love your cock, Papa,” you whisper. “I want to feel you cum inside me til I’m full and dripping.” Papa lifts you up, keeping you taught to his chest as he positions you and slides you down onto him. Your eyes roll back. The slide is easy with how aroused both of you are, and not a minute is wasted. Papa begins to thrust, fist getting tighter in your hair. 

“Tell me how much you want me,” he growls, “Put a hand on your Papa’s chest and beg for your pleasure.” 

“Papa, I need it,” you moan, bouncing harder on him. The chair beneath you two creaks, threatening to give out, but neither of you pay it any attention. “I need you, I need you deeper, deeper, fuck me harder!”

“Yes,” he rasps, “Let them know out there, outside that door. Let them know what you did to land you here in such trouble. Let them know what a perfect harlot you were, how you wanted your Papa so.” He grunts as you bounce harder on him. 

You lick your top lip, and fall forward, looping your arms around his neck. From this angle, he looks just as desperate as you. His hand grabs and clutches incessantly into the meat of your ass cheeks, fodder for his arousal and increasingly forceful thrusting. You decide to add to the mix what had gotten you into all this trouble in the first place. 

“One more little peep show just for you, Papa,” you smirk, and lift your habit fully up, placing it over his head so that his face is directly pressed in between your breasts. You hear his garbled gasp of ecstasy, and feel him still, shuddering as he busts his load inside you. You take the habit off from over his head, and that dazed look is present, that wide eyed expression that the Siblings like to giggle about sometimes. He immediately tries to catch his breath, gripping his desk. 

“Sister, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to finish before...” 

“It’s okay,” you grin, taking his hand and placing it down where you two are still joined. He smirks, brushing the errant hair out of his face, and starts to rub your clit in earnest, letting you squeeze around what little hardness he has waning down as he worked his magic touch. You gasp suddenly, and he pulls you down to kiss him once more, running his tongue into his mouth and giving your ass a spank. Your head hits his shoulder, and he touches you through your own orgasm, keeping you against him as you ride it out. 

When you open your eyes, you look down. Papa looks about ready to flatline, and you snatch up another opportunity to tease him as you lift off and fix your habit back to an appropriate fit. “Can’t keep up, Papa? Oscar Wilde would be disappointed.” 

“Oscar Wilde did not have a naughty little nun flashing him when she was in the mood, the stronzo,” Papa complains, rubbing his eyes. He grimaces when he sees what a mess he’d made of his skull paint, but he supposes there was no salvaging that with your lips all over it too. “Do you feel punished?” he asks. 

“Would it make you feel better if I said yes?” you grin. 

“Just...” He points a stern finger at you, then sighs in defeat. “Don’t do it again, eh?” You give him a look over your shoulder that promises you would be disregarding that completely. He grumbles, standing and gesturing. “Shoo. Go embroider a grucifix pillow, or something, before I am forced to fuck you again.” You giggle, shaking your hair out before reattaching your veil. 

“Don’t tempt me.” You grab your panties from his bookshelf, looking down at Dorian Gray. You’d never be able to read that book in a public place again. 

“Oh! I will have you do one last thing for me, my dove,” he says. “I am prepared to milk this whole punishment business until the bitter end of the day.” You turn. He picks the sticky vibrator off of a stack of now-soiled paperwork, and hands them to you. “Deliver these, mm? You know where they go.” You grimace playfully, taking them. 

“Lucky Cardinal.” 

“Not as lucky as I,” Papa hums, blowing you a kiss as you sashay out of his office, just as disobedient as when you had entered it.


End file.
